


Is it a Monster

by Pakeha



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Body Dysphoria, Character Study, Gen, Post-Film, probably some PTSD going on here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-11
Updated: 2014-05-11
Packaged: 2018-01-24 07:54:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1597358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pakeha/pseuds/Pakeha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He wishes the arm would pop off like a prosthetic. Like a bad leg.  Like a bit.  Like anything but this gross mechanical abuse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Is it a Monster

**Author's Note:**

> i just really want to get into Bucky's head. The self loathing must be fucking potent.

He wishes often that the arm would pop off like a prosthetic, like a bad leg, like a bit, like anything but this gross mechanical abuse. He’d rather look at the dead scarred stump of a wound most veterans come home with. Instead he has this _thing._

It’s a thing whose usefulness is entirely out weighed by its monstrosity. It marks him out. It’s a fucking beacon to anyone with half a brain, a clear sign of his _other_ , his _sin_. 

Each night he lies alone in whatever dark place he finds to sleep and touches the metal simile of muscle, of tendon, of bone, and he grips it hard in his hand of flesh like he might somehow be able to crush the thing, to rip it off. 

_He hates this arm._

Through his halting and reluctant integration into Steve’s world he’s had offers to have it removed, from kind doctors who look like monsters, from inventors with smart mouths and too-familiar faces, but every time he says no. It’s his burden, his gross reminder. He will deal with it himself, someday. He will carve into his own shoulder, cut deep through bone and muscle and sinew, and no other will do it for him. 

He is nothing if not self-sufficient. 

He’s a fucking martyr according to Steve and they’ve had more than one argument over it. Steve tries to be careful, picking around the nasty subject as best he can until he can’t anymore and they Fight. Steve will tell him it doesn’t matter, he doesn’t need it, doesn’t need its power or it’s notoriety, that he will still be Bucky with one arm or two or no arms at all. 

It’s not that he doesn’t believe Steve, but he _can’t._

It’s a monstrosity, but it’s a necessary one. 

He is a killer. A mercenary. An assassin. A tool. A weapon. Without this arm he is only a dull blade. 

That the arm fills him with self loathing, that it makes Steve cringe ever so slightly away when he goes to touch, to embrace- These are sacrifices he must make. 

He wishes again and again that it was removable. He wishes that the doctors had made it manageable, but it is a permanent and harrowing sign of everything he cannot stand about himself. It is forced and constant reminder of his past. 

There are memories there of childhood, of old sayings, of mother and father and their advice. They whisper at him that it is his cross to bear and he says _yes._

Here he goes, there he wanders: a monster, marked out by brilliant silver and a bright red star. 

He will not hide. He will not again be gagged and stashed away. He will not be masked. He will not be disguised.

He is not Bucky and he will not wear his face. He will never be Bucky again, no matter how much Steve wishes things to be the way they once were. 

That does not have to mean things are all bad.

Of course he will heal. He is self-sufficient yes and he is also _adaptable_. One day maybe he will amputate, but for now it will stay. He has to let it stay. Let it be the enduring sign, the reminder of those deep, craggy mars which will dig across his soul forever. He will be like a tree, grow around the impediment, consume it, own it. 

He will own his hatred. He will own his sins. 

He hates this arm, but it is him. He is a monster, and he will cannot erase that. He will not. 

If it cannot be removed, so be it. He will grow. He will swallow. He will survive.


End file.
